


Open Eyes

by fallenangel218



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenangel218/pseuds/fallenangel218
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs' drinking has never affected his ability to function at work… until a mistake nearly takes the life of someone he cares about, and he's forced to take a hard look at his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings/Spoilers:** this is set after Ziva has left NCIS (in Season 11). The story is centered around the issue of alcoholism - warnings for that, if the subject is bothersome.

The basement door slammed, and Gibbs jogged down the basement steps, pulling a hoodie on over his polo shirt. He hadn't bothered to change after work. Instead of picking up his sandpaper, he headed for his workbench, and picked up the bottle of Old Granddad sitting next to his toolbox. He poured a copious amount into the empty mason jar next to the bottle, and took a swig. He sighed in contention as the liquor burned his throat. 

A few more swigs, and the first glass was gone. He poured himself another, and settled down on a stool at his workbench, bottle next to him. He stared at the half finished boat in front of him as he drank his whiskey. He usually found solace in the feeling of running sandpaper over the surface of the boat, but tonight, he couldn't touch it. 

He poured another glass of whiskey, and turned to his workbench. He'd started a list of supplies… he could finish that while he drank. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

_The Next Morning, 0900 hours…_

"Boss!" Tim shouted as he walked through Gibbs' living room. He and Tony had taken it upon themselves to drive to Gibbs' house when he didn't show up at the office that morning. They didn't have a callout yet, so Tony had assigned Bishop to a cold case, to keep her busy. 

Tony came out from the bedrooms, shaking his head. 

"Anything?" 

"Nothing." 

Tony nodded toward the kitchen, and they silently made their way in, and to the basement door. Tony led the way as they quietly descended the steps. He stopped halfway down, causing Tim to nearly careen into him. 

"Tony--" 

"Shh. There he is." 

Gibbs was passed out at his workbench. His head was tucked into his arm as he snoozed. Tony could see the empty bottle next to him from his place on the stairs. 

They carefully made their way down the stairs, and to the workbench where Gibbs was sleeping. An empty mason jar was still clutched in his hand. Tony observed the bottle. 

"Old Granddad," he whispered. 

"What's so special about that?" Tim whispered back. 

"I was here yesterday. That bottle was full." 

Gibbs shifted in his position, and grunted. He did not wake. Tony reached out and shook his shoulder. 

"Boss," he said loudly. "It's me, Tony." 

Gibbs grunted and stirred. He slowly brought his head up, and his back registered its protest at being straightened out again. 

"Why are you here?" he said gruffly. 

"It's 0900, Boss," Tim said. "We were concerned when you didn't come to the office." 

Gibbs looked at his watch. 

_Damn it all… how could I oversleep?_

"I'm fine. Get back to the office." 

"Are you sure?" Tony asked, silently indicating the empty bottle. 

"I said I'm fine, DiNozzo… I'll meet you at the office." 

"All right. Call me if you need anything." 

Gibbs grunted in response, and Tony beckoned Tim to leave with him. When they were gone, Gibbs attempted to stand up. His legs registered their protest, and he almost fell. 

_Aw hell, am I still drunk?_

He stumbled up the stairs and got into the shower, hoping it would help wake him up a bit and get him more alert. He stayed in until the water ran cold, and finally turned it off. It was no help. He dressed and went downstairs to find his car keys. When he finally found them, shoved between the couch cushions, for a wonder, he headed out to get to NCIS. 

Gibbs had a difficult time driving in. He was jittery and anxious. He stopped at a coffee shop near the Navy Yard and went through the drive-up to get his morning cup. He almost missed the drive-up window, and his hand was shaking worse than an old man's when he handed the money to the cashier. Finally, he was handed a cup of coffee and he sped off toward the Navy yard. 

He made it to work, and rushed into the building. As he reached the elevator, it opened, and he nearly bumped into Vance as the other man was stepping from the elevator. 

"Good morning, Agent Gibbs," Vance greeted him. 

"Morning, Leon." 

Gibbs stepped onto the elevator, and waited as it closed and took him upstairs. When it finally dinged at the squad room, he breathed a sigh of relief. He made his way to his desk and sat down, aware that people were staring at him. As he got himself ready for the day, Tony approached his desk. 

"How are you?" 

"I'm fine, DiNozzo." 

"You didn't look it this morning." 

"I'm fine. Don't ask me again." 

Tony left it at that, and went back to his desk. Gibbs' cell rang, and he fumbled with it before he got it open. 

"Gibbs." 

He listened to dispatch, and closed the phone, dropping it on his desk. 

"We have a dead sailor in Anacostia. Gear up." 

Everyone did as they were told. Tony glanced at Tim as he picked up his bag. They were both thinking the same thing. 

_Watch out for Gibbs._

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Gibbs insisted on driving to the crime scene. Valuing their lives, Tim and Tony did not put up a fight. Tony had never been nervous when Gibbs was driving, but the way he handled the wheel today was cause to fear for his life. They'd narrowly avoided about seven accidents on the way to the crime scene. Tony sighed in relief when they were finally coming up on the crime scene. Ducky and Jimmy had already arrived, and were unloading the gurney from the back of the Autopsy van. Tony prepared himself to get out of the truck. As they got closer and closer, he suddenly realized that Gibbs wasn't going to slow down. 

"Gibbs! Stop the truck!" he shouted. The truck did not stop. "Boss! You're going to hit the van! Boss!" Gibbs was completely zoned out. Tony reached over and grabbed the wheel, in an attempt to steer the truck away from the autopsy van, but he was too late. The MCRT truck went careening into the side of the Autopsy van. 

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

Tony regained consciousness, and found himself lying on the ground. There were emergency vehicles surrounding the crash site. 

"Anthony? Can you hear me?" 

Tony blinked a few times, and Ducky's face came into view. 

"Ducky?" 

"How do you feel?" 

Tony tried to sit up, and was surprised that he could. 

"I have a headache." 

"I'm not surprised. You were thrown from the truck, young man." 

"How am I not dead?" 

"You are a lucky man, Tony." 

Everything that had just happened suddenly came back to Tony, and he tried to stand up. 

"Where's Gibbs? McGee? Are they all right? What about Palmer--" 

Ducky forced Tony to remain sitting. 

"Gibbs is right over there," Ducky said, pointing to an open ambulance. Gibbs was sitting on the edge of it, holding an ice pack to his face. "He was extremely lucky that NCIS installs airbags in all of their vehicles." 

"And McGee?" 

"Tim has been rushed to the hospital. He was unconscious when I got to him. Mr. Palmer is uninjured; he rode in with Tim." 

"I have to find out if Tim is all right," Tony said, trying to get up again. 

"In time. I want the paramedics to check you over first." 

Before he could protest, an EMT descended on Tony, and fussed over him. 

"You got lucky," said the EMT, snapping his bag shut. "I don't see any evidence of a concussion, and you have no broken bones." 

"Thanks. Can I go now?" 

"I don’t see why not." 

"Great." Tony got to his feet before Ducky could stop him, and stormed over to where Gibbs was sitting. 

"What the hell happened!" he shouted angrily. "You could have killed someone!" 

Gibbs looked up at his SFA. He'd never seen Tony show this much anger toward him before. 

"I don't know, Tony." 

"Why didn't you stop the truck?" Tony asked, trying to calm down. 

"I don't know." 

Tony got a bit closer to Gibbs and hesitated. 

_Is that whiskey on his breath? Is he still drunk from the night before?_

Before he could verbalize his question, The EMTs came back and ushered Gibbs into the ambulance, to go to the hospital. Tony watched the ambulance drive away, wondering what the hell just happened. 

Tony turned and joined Ducky by the autopsy van. 

"Ducky… we can't let the hospital do a tox screen on Gibbs." 

"Why not?" 

"He was passed out drunk when McGee and I found him this morning. I could still smell it on him before the paramedics took him." 

"Are you telling me that Jethro was still drunk when he got behind the wheel of that truck?" 

"Yeah." 

"Let's get to that hospital. I want to be there when he's examined." 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Tony dropped Ducky off at the emergency room entrance. While he took off to park the car, Ducky went inside and spoke to the receptionist. 

"Mr. Gibbs? He's in room 12, down that way and to the left." 

"Thank you, my dear." 

Ducky smiled and headed down the way until he came to number 12. He pulled back the curtain. Gibbs was sitting up in bed, looking at his hands. 

"Jethro," he said, stepping in and pulling the curtain closed. "Are you all right?" 

"Just bruised, Ducky." 

"That isn't what I meant." 

Gibbs looked up to meet Ducky's stern glare. 

_Damn it._

"I'm all right." 

Ducky approached the bed and leaned in a bit. 

"I'm going to ask you something, and do not skirt around the truth." 

"What is it?" 

"Did you get behind the wheel of that truck under the influence of alcohol?" 

"Duck…" 

"The truth, Jethro." 

"I went a little overboard with the Old Granddad last night." 

"According to Tony, you drank the entire bottle." 

Gibbs looked at his lap. 

"You've never been this irresponsible in the time I've known you, Jethro. Why would you come to work if you knew you were still out of sorts?" 

"How would I explain that to Vance? I can't just call him and tell him I'm hung over, Ducky." 

"So you came to work half-drunk, and almost killed four people! Listen to yourself, Jethro!" 

The curtain opened, and the doctor stepped in. 

"You can go, Agent Gibbs. Your X-rays came back clean of breaks and internal injuries." 

"Thanks, Doc." 

The doctor left them, and Gibbs swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. 

"I have to find McGee," He said, reaching for his clothes. 

"Tony went looking for him," Ducky said , turning his back to allow Gibbs privacy as he dressed. "He was unconscious when the paramedics took him away." 

"He hit his head on the dashboard." 

"You're lucky he didn't go through the window." 

Gibbs sat down on the bed. 

"What happened to me, Duck? How could I be so stupid?" 

"You let your limits go by the wayside, from the looks of things. Did the hospital give you a tox screen?" 

"No." 

"Good. Let's keep it that way. Let's find Tim, shall we?" 

Gibbs nodded and followed Ducky out of the room. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Hey, Probie! How are you feeling?" Tony said as he walked into Tim's room. His partner's arm was in a sling, and his forehead was bandaged. 

"I've been better. What happened?" 

Tony sat down next to Tim's bed. 

"Gibbs crashed the truck into the autopsy van." 

"How--" 

Tony just stared at him. 

"He was still drunk?" 

"He reeked of whiskey before the ambulance took him away." 

"Damn. Is anyone else hurt?" 

"Just you and Gibbs. Ducky went to get him out of the ER." 

Movement by the door brought the boys' attention away from their conversation. Ducky was standing in the doorway, and Gibbs was with him. 

"How are you, Timothy?" 

"I broke my collarbone and I'm getting over the mother of all concussions, but other than that, the doctor said I got lucky." 

"I shall have a word with your Doctor. If you'll excuse me…" 

Ducky stepped out, leaving Gibbs alone with his agents. Gibbs took a few awkward steps into the room. Tony and Tim exchanged glances. They'd never seen the Boss like this before. 

"I owe you both an apology. It was stupid of me not to call in today. I shouldn't have been behind that wheel." 

"Accidents happen. Don't worry about it," Tony said. 

"Boss," Tim said as he adjusted his bed to a sitting position. "Tony and I are concerned about how much you've been drinking." 

"I'm not an alcoholic," Gibbs said defensively. 

"You could've fooled me," Tony said, rising to his feet. "What do you call drinking bourbon alone every night? This isn't the first time I've had to wake you up, Boss. You have a problem." 

"I don't have a problem! Alcohol does _not_ rule my life!" 

"You almost killed us today!" Tim said angrily. "Don't you even care?" 

Gibbs hesitated. 

"Of course I care! What kind of stupid question is that?" 

"It's not a stupid question. If you really cared, you would have called in sick today, or at least given Tony the keys." 

"I'm not going to talk about this anymore," Gibbs snapped, and turned to leave the room. He bumped into Ducky, who was coming back in with Tim's medical chart. Without a word, he shoved by the ME and left. 

Ducky exchanged a worried glance with the pair of Agents in front of him. 

"He's got a problem, Ducky," Tony said quietly, falling back into his chair. 

"I agree… at this juncture, I have a better chance of pulling teeth, than getting him to admit he has an alcohol problem." 

"So what do we do?" Tim asked. 

Ducky set down Tim's medical chart. 

"I'm not sure." 

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs took a taxi back to NCIS. As soon as he stepped from the cab, he was the recipient of several glares from fellow agents. He glared back and continued into the building, right past the security desk. 

"I need some ID!" the Guard yelled as Gibbs stormed past. Gibbs stopped and patted his jacket. His ID was gone. He turned to the Guard and glared. "Go ahead, Agent Gibbs." 

\--------- 

When he got to the squad room, people were still gawking at him. He expected this to happen for a while, after what had happened to his team that morning. 

"Gibbs! My office!" 

He looked up to see Vance standing on the balcony, looking pissed. He nodded at him, and headed upstairs, the entire squad room looking on in curiosity. Vance noticed this. 

"What are you all staring at! Don't you have criminals to catch?" 

Everyone returned to their duties as Gibbs followed Vance into his office. 

"What in the hell happened out there," Vance said angrily. 

"The truck wouldn't stop, Leon… I pushed on the brakes hard as I could, but nothing happened." 

"So you didn't come to work drunk this morning?" 

Gibbs was silent for a moment. 

"I'm not drunk." 

"Not right now, but several Agents witnessed your arrival this morning. You may not have been wasted, but you clearly had more alcohol in your system than you should have when you walked into this building!" 

"It was the brakes! When have you known me to lie to you, Leon!" 

"You don’t." 

"Exactly." 

"I can't just slap you on the wrist for this, Gibbs. We have to investigate the accident. I'm going to have to suspend you from duty until the investigation is over." 

"You can't suspend me!" Gibbs said angrily. 

"That's not negotiable. I'm sorry." 

Gibbs took his badge from his pocket and set it on Vance's desk, along with his firearm, and silently left the office. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

When the taxi pulled up in front of his house, Gibbs practically threw the fare at his driver, and got out of the car. He slammed his front door behind him, and headed straight for his basement. He made a beeline for the small cabinet in the corner of his workbench, and retrieved a bottle of Old Grand Dad. He grabbed his trusty mason jar, and poured a generous amount of bourbon into it. 

_I'm not a drunk. Who the hell do they think they are?_

He took a long swig of bourbon and picked up his sandpaper to start working on his boat. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Tony spent a couple hours with Tim at the hospital before he returned to NCIS. The minute he set foot in the squad room, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him. 

"What? Is my fly down or something?" 

Everyone quickly resumed their work, and Tony went to his desk, perplexed. His message light was flashing on his desk phone, so he sat down and started to check his voicemail. As he keyed in his password, Vance's voice rang out from the balcony. 

"DiNozzo!" 

Tony put down the phone and looked upward. Vance gave a silent motion for Tony to join him. Tony nodded and headed up the stairs. 

"What's going on, Director? Everyone is staring at me like I came to work naked or something." 

"Keep your metaphors to yourself, and come with me, please." 

"Sorry, sir." 

Tony followed him into the office, and Vance shut the door behind them. 

"Have a seat." 

Tony sat nervously. 

"Am I in trouble for something?" he asked. 

"You're not the one in trouble, Tony." 

_Shit. He knows about the accident._

"I want to talk to you about Agent Gibbs. What was his state when he got to work this morning?" 

"He looked a little sick. He was shaking like a leaf." 

"Did he appear to have any alcohol in his system?" 

"Is that a trick question, Director?" 

"Am I laughing, DiNozzo?" 

"Gibbs would never come to work drunk. Period. He's more responsible than that." 

_Or so I thought._

"Tell me about the accident." 

"We were coming up on the crime scene. I was waiting for Gibbs to slow down, so I could jump out and get started. Only he didn't stop. The last thing I remember is yelling at him to hit the brakes." 

"According to Agent Gibbs, the brakes on the truck went out." 

"It's possible." 

Vance stood up and came around his desk to face Tony. 

"If I find out you've been covering for him, I'm going to suspend you right along with him. Do you understand me?" 

"You _suspended_ him?" 

Vance glared at him. 

"I understand, Sir." 

"Good. You're dismissed. I'm giving you the day off. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Agent DiNozzo." 

"Thank you, Sir." 

Tony left Vance's office and went back to his desk. His voicemail could wait. Right now, his only priority was finding Gibbs, and making sure he was all right. 

\---------------- 

The front door was unlocked when Tony got to Gibbs' house. He went inside. The house was silent. 

"Boss?" he said aloud, announcing his presence. 

No answer. 

Tony drew his gun and made his way into the kitchen. Finding no one there, he automatically went for the basement door. His heart nearly stopped when he found it locked. 

_He never locks the basement door._

Tony started picking the lock, and eventually got it open. He quietly made his way downstairs. When the basement came into view, he practically leapt down the stairs, and dropped to his knees in front of an unconscious Gibbs. 

"Boss!" Tony shook his shoulder. "Boss! Come on, don't do this to me..." 

Tony leaned down to check his breathing, and the smell of bourbon immediately assailed him. Worried, he looked around the basement, and spotted an empty bottle of Old Grand Dad on the workbench, and half of another gone. 

"What the hell did you do?" Tony said. He took out his cell and called 911. After that he called Ducky. 

"Ducky... you need to get to Gibbs' house, now." 

"What happened?" 

"Just come over. The paramedics are on the way." 

"He didn't --" 

"Yeah, he did. Stupid bastard. Did you know that Vance suspended him for this morning until the accident is thoroughly investigated?" 

"I hadn't heard. He must've taken it hard." 

"I would think so." Tony heard sirens approaching the house. "The paramedics are here. Can you meet us at Bethesda?" 

"Absolutely. I will see you soon." 

Tony hung up as the paramedics came down the stairs with a gurney, and watched worriedly as they strapped Gibbs in and took him away. 

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The pamphlets and information I reference are real. I obtained the information from the website for Alcoholics Anonymous: www.aa.org.

Tony sat dutifully next to Gibbs' bed. They'd pumped his stomach as soon as he got to the hospital, and the only thing they could do now was wait until he woke up. Tony wasn't sure how Gibbs had let himself get this bad. Sure, Tony had seen him drunk before, and had even been on the receiving end of a drunken tirade or two in the basement after a tough case. His Boss had always been sure to be completely sober when he came to work, and sure as hell never drove drunk. 

Three pamphlets for Alcoholics Anonymous sat on the side table in between Tony and the bed. Tony was hesitant to give them to Gibbs. After all, the man was not one to accept help of any kind, and he'd already made it clear to everyone that he was not an alcoholic. He'd proven himself wrong with recent events. 

A soft knock on the door brought Tony out of his reverie. Tim came into the room, his arm in a sling. He handed Tony a cup of coffee. 

"Thanks." 

"Anytime. How is he?" 

"The doctor says he'll be fine. We just have to wait for him to wake up." 

"What would possess him to drink so much in so little time?" 

"I'm not sure, but I'm not going to let him do it again." 

"You can't be with him 24/7, Tony." 

"I've been through this with my father. I tried to get him help, and I failed. I've given up on him. I'm not going to do the same disservice to Gibbs. He doesn't deserve it." 

Tim reassuringly put a hand on Tony's shoulder. 

"He's got us to help him. He'll get through this." 

Tony nodded. Tim got to his feet. 

"I'd better get back to my room. The nurse gave me 30 minutes to walk around without her." 

"You need a hand getting back to your room?" 

"Nah, I'll be all right. It's only on the next floor, and the elevator is around the corner." 

"Okay. Take it easy, Probie." 

"Thanks, Tony." 

Tim left, and Tony found himself alone... again. Gibbs continued to sleep as his monitors beeped faithfully. He took a sip of the cafeteria coffee and sat back, waiting for Gibbs to wake up. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

A grunt woke Tony out of a sound sleep. He sat up in his chair and set the empty coffee cup on the table. Gibbs was stirring. Tony got to his feet. 

"Boss?" 

"mhmm..." 

"Boss, it's Tony. Can you hear me?" 

"Headache..." Gibbs grumbled. 

"I'd be shocked if you didn't have one," Tony scolded. 

Gibbs closed his eyes and sank into his pillow. He didn't have the strength to respond. A few moments later, a nurse approached his bedside. 

"Good morning, Mr. Gibbs. How are you feeling?" 

He could only shake his head. It hurt too much to move his mouth. 

"You're lucky to be alive," the nurse scolded him. She checked his vitals and his monitors. "I'll get your doctor." 

She left, and Tony sat on the edge of the bed. 

"You scared the hell out of a lot of people, pulling that stunt last night." 

"Mhmgh." Gibbs rolled over, away from Tony. 

"That was a damn stupid thing to do." 

"Hurts..." he managed to get out coherently, through the excruciating pain shooting throughout his head and face. 

Tony got up off the bed. 

"I don't feel bad for you, Gibbs. You brought this on yourself. McGee and I told you we were here to talk if you needed us, but you ran home and nearly drank yourself to death! We all want to help you, but you have to be willing to help yourself. When you're ready, call me." 

Tony turned to storm out, just as the doctor walked in. 

"I'm Dr. Farrah," she said, holding out a hand. Tony shook her hand. 

"Special Agent Tony DiNozzo." 

"I have you listed as the proxy for Agent Gibbs, is that right?" 

"Yeah." 

Dr. Farrah checked Gibbs over. Tony stayed as she did her examination. Finally, she turned to Tony. 

"He'll be fine, but I'd like to monitor him some more. I want to keep him here for one more night. If all goes well, we'll discharge him in the morning." 

"Sounds good. Thanks, Doc." 

Tony turned and abruptly left. 

"He's mad," Gibbs said hoarsely as he brought his bed up a bit. 

Dr. Farrah turned to him. 

"With good reason. You nearly killed yourself, Mr. Gibbs. You should really monitor your drinking habits." 

"Not a drunk." 

"I never said you were." she spotted the pamphlets on the table, and pointed to them. "It looks like Agent DiNozzo may think otherwise. I suggest you take a look at those pamphlets, Mr. Gibbs. I don't want you to end up back in here. Okay?" 

He nodded. 

"I'll get you something for the pain, in the meantime." 

"Thanks." 

Dr. Farrah left, and Gibbs fell back onto his pillow. He glanced over at the brochures Tony had left. He reached for them and held them up in front of him. He squinted to read the pamphlet titles. 

_"Is A.A. For You?"  
"Frequently Asked Questions About A.A."   
"This is A.A. - An Introduction to the A.A. Recovery Program"_

 

He threw the pamphlets back onto the table. He didn't need A.A. He'd just gone overboard with the bourbon. No big deal. 

_Who does DiNozzo think he is, leaving those? I'm not a drunk._

The nurse came back with his pain meds, and he took them gratefully. As they kicked in, he drifted to sleep. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

Tony drove to NCIS. Instead of going to the squad room when he got there, he went down to Autopsy. He found Ducky and Palmer there, in the middle of an autopsy. 

"How is he?" Ducky asked immediately. 

"He'll be fine." 

"I'm only sorry I could not make it up to the hospital with you," Ducky said, indicating the body on the table in front of him. 

"It's not like he'd care if any of us were there, anyway." 

"I know you're upset, Tony. We all are." 

"He could have called me, Ducky. I thought we were friends, that he could come to me when he had a problem. This proves that he obviously doesn’t see me as his friend at all." 

"Jethro has done an incredibly stupid thing, and I'm sure he's still being an ass, even after he's almost died. Don't ever think that you are not his friend, Tony. You are the best friend he's had since I met him." 

"Really?" 

"Give him some time, Tony." 

"You can't flip a switch on alcoholism," Tony said wearily, leaning against the empty table behind him. "He's got to admit that he has a problem before anyone can help him." 

"That is something he will have to come to on his own." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right." 

"Go home and rest, Tony. The Director has given you some time off, yes?" 

"Yeah, I've got the next couple of days off for medical leave." 

"Use them wisely." 

"Thanks, Ducky." 

"You are most welcome." 

Tony left Autopsy and boarded the elevator. He gave Ducky's words a lot of thought as the elevator took him to the parking garage. Maybe Ducky was right... maybe he should take the next two days to himself. Ducky was set to pick up Gibbs and McGee the next morning, anyway. The elevator deposited him at the parking garage, and he got into his car and drove home. 

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

Ducky arrived at Bethesda promptly at 9 a.m. to pick up Gibbs and McGee. Both were ready to be discharged. He first stopped at Tim's room. The Doctor was completing his evaluation. 

"Good Morning, Timothy! Are you ready to go home?" Ducky said with a smile. 

"Only if the Doc says I can." 

"You are good to go, Agent McGee. We'll make a follow up appointment for your shoulder, and I'm going to give you a prescription for pain medication, should you need it. I'm also going to give you this," he said, handing Tim a flyer with instructions on it. "Stay with someone for a few days. If any of those symptoms occur for longer than 24 hours, come in immediately. Okay?" 

"Got it." 

"Here's your prescription, and my card, with your follow-up date on it." 

"Thank you, Doctor." 

The Doctor left, and Tim got up and took his pants into the bathroom with him. He emerged shirtless. Ducky helped him get into his T-shirt, and back into the arm brace. 

"Let's go and get Jethro, shall we?" 

Tim nodded, and they left the room behind. 

\--------- 

Gibbs was alone when they got to his room. 

"Are you ready to go, Jethro?" 

"I was ready last night." 

"Has your doctor examined you?" 

"She just left. Says I'm fine." 

Ducky picked up the medical chart hanging on the wall and looked it over. 

"She's signed off on your release. Have you any medications to pick up?" 

"Nope." 

Gibbs took his clothes into the bathroom and emerged a moment later, fully dressed. 

"Let's go." 

Ducky spotted the A.A. Pamphlets on the table, and slipped them into Tim's bag with a wink. Tim nodded his understanding. 

\----------- 

The drive was quiet for the first five minutes. Ducky's Morgan was a tight squeeze, but everyone had found a comfortable way to ride. 

"I have a splendid idea," Ducky suddenly said, turning onto the highway toward Gibbs' home. "How do you feel about Tim staying at your home, Jethro? He needs looking after for a few days, and you need the company." 

"Don't need any company." 

"After what happened two days ago, I'd wager you need the company. Tim is staying with you. End of discussion." 

"Fine." 

Ducky made a detour to Tim's apartment, to allow him to get extra clothing, and by noon they were pulling into Gibbs' driveway. He helped Tim carry his bag inside, while Gibbs stormed in ahead of them. 

"Are you sure about this, Ducky?" Tim asked as they walked up to the front door. "He really doesn't want me here." 

"He needs someone here to hold him accountable for his actions. He almost killed himself two days ago. He needs a friend to help him see that having a drink is not always the right answer to every problem." 

Tim stopped at the front door. 

"Are you sure I'm the right person to do this? What about Tony?" 

"Jethro has burned his bridges with Anthony, for the moment." 

"He's getting there with me, too." 

"You have shown him that you can stand up to him. He respects you, Tim, as a colleague and as a friend. You can do this." 

"Okay, but I'm keeping your number on speed dial," Tim joked. 

"You can make it your number one speed dial," Ducky said with a smile. "On a more serious note, I will call you later to check on things." 

"Okay Ducky. Thanks for everything." 

"You are welcome. Go and get some rest." 

"Will do." 

Tim smiled and went into the house. Gibbs wasn't in the living room. 

"Boss?" 

He dropped his bag by the door and walked through the living room to the kitchen. Gibbs wasn't there either. Tim made his way to the basement door, and finding it unlocked, opened it and started down the stairs. He stopped in the middle of the staircase when he saw his Boss. 

Gibbs was leaning over his workbench, palms flat. For a moment, Tim thought he might be working on one of his designs, but as he tiptoed down a step, he could hear him crying. A bottle of Old Grand Dad sat next to him, and the glass next to it had a smidgen of bourbon in it. 

Tim made his way down the rest of the stairs and slowly went over to the workbench. 

"Boss, what's wrong?" 

"Go away, McGee," he said, voice cracking. 

"If you're trying to be stoic, it isn't working." 

Gibbs didn't say anything in return. He stood there, looking down at the workbench. His drink remained untouched. 

"I just want to be left alone, McGee." 

Tim pulled up a stool and sat down next to Gibbs. 

"When Delilah was hurt and in the hospital, you came up and sat with me for hours. We didn't talk. We just sat." 

"You asked me to come." 

"I needed you, and I wasn't afraid to ask you for help when I needed it." 

Gibbs remained silent, eyes looking downward at his work bench. 

"If you need help, I'm here. Tony is here. We're all here. Don't push us away." 

There was silence for a long time. Tim sat, and Gibbs stood at his workbench, unmoving. It seemed like forever. 

After 10 minutes of silence, Gibbs brought his head up, and looked at Tim. 

"I need help." 

**TBC... ******


	6. Chapter 6

Vance pored through the case file on the accident involving the MCRT van. Abby and another Lab Tech had gone over the van from top to bottom. He was almost confident in his decision. Almost. 

He picked up the phone and dialed an extension. 

_"Very Special Agent - "_

"DiNozzo, come to my office, now." 

_"Yes sir."_

He hung up and looked through the folder one more time before Tony came into the office. 

"Have a seat, Agent DiNozzo." 

After Tony was seated, Vance held out the folder he'd been looking at. 

"These are the results of our investigation into the accident involving your team." 

Tony reached out and took the file nervously. He was afraid of what he might see. He flipped through the pictures from the scene, and other things, until he came to Abby's report. His eyes widened as he read. 

"The brakes were shot." 

"Agent Gibbs was correct. The accident was not his fault." 

"Does that mean he's not suspended anymore?" 

"Oh, he's still suspended. Just because this accident wasn't his fault, doesn't excuse the fact that he showed up to work half drunk." 

"Come on, Director, you know Gibbs as well as I do. He'd never do anything like that!" 

Vance stood and walked around to the front of his desk. 

"I know you're covering for him, DiNozzo. You don't have to lie to me anymore." 

Tony, for a wonder, had no comeback. He simply shut his mouth. 

"Am I suspended?" he finally said. 

"No." 

"But you said--" 

"I never said I wasn't still pissed off, Agent DiNozzo. You came into my office and lied to me when I asked you for a straight answer involving a serious matter. Do you know what that kind of thing would look like, had this incident gone to trial?" 

"It'd look like a cover-up to me." 

"Exactly. I'm not suspending you, but I'm benching your team for a week, while Agent Gibbs is out of the office. You are assigned to cold cases. If I find out you're working on anything but cold cases, it's your ass. Understood?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good. Dismissed." 

Tony left the office, more pissed off at the situation than he had been before. Why in the hell did Gibbs do this to him? To his team? Tony knew he'd be avoiding Gibbs until the bastard came back to work. A little bit of space would be good for everyone. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

The first thing Tim did was take the bottle of Bourbon away from Gibbs, and lock it back in the liquor cabinet. Tim hid the key in a place only he knew about, and joined Gibbs in the kitchen. 

"How about some coffee?" Tim asked. Gibbs nodded silently, and Tim started a pot of his Boss' favorite coffee. As it brewed, Tim noticed Gibbs' nervous demeanor. 

"You can relax, you know." 

"Don't make it any more awkward for me than it is, McGee," Gibbs snapped. 

"You asked for my help. This is me helping." 

He held out a steaming mug of coffee, and Gibbs gratefully accepted it and sat down at the table, before he started fidgeting again. Tim joined him a moment later, holding his own cup of coffee. 

"The hospital coffee was junk. I've been dying for a decent cup of coffee," Tim said as he contentedly sipped his drink. 

"That's not coffee, it's swill," Gibbs commented. 

Tim chuckled. 

"It's worse than swill." 

Gibbs laughed. It was the first time he'd laughed since before this whole ordeal had started. Before-- 

His coffee cup slipped from his hand and hit the table, hard. He caught it before it tipped over and spilled. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm good. It just slipped out of my hand." 

"In the 11 years I've known you, I've never seen you spill your coffee." 

"I'm fine, McGee. Don't scrutinize me." 

"You're sure you're all right?" 

"For the last time, I'm fine!" He stood up and stalked toward the basement door with his coffee. 

"Why do you always run to the basement when things get too hard?" Tim said angrily. This stopped Gibbs in his tracks. "You always go downstairs and hide when something is bothering you, instead of talking about it. You need to learn to talk to people instead of hiding from your problems!" 

It happened before either of them realized what was happening. The coffee cup sailed through the air, narrowly missing Tim's head, and smashing on the kitchen wall. Coffee stained the white wall as it cascaded downward. 

They stared at each other for a long time. Neither of them knew how to react. Tim had surprisingly not flinched as the coffee cup sailed by his head. He just stood, staring at his Boss in incredulous silence. 

Gibbs turned and left the room. Tim heard the basement door slam, and the lock click into place. He didn't give a thought to following him. He found the broom in the utility closet and started to clean up the broken shards of coffee cup. 

**\---------**

When he got downstairs, Gibbs made a beeline for his workbench. He reached for his bourbon to pour himself a glass. When he realized it wasn't there, anger boiled inside of him. Rage completely took him over, and he trashed his workbench. He threw a bucket of nails across the room, knocked over a tool chest, and punched his portable radio. 

After a few minutes, he started to calm down, and sank down onto a stool, trying to control his breathing. 

_How am I supposed to function without bourbon?_

It hit him like a ton of bricks, right at that moment. He couldn't function without bourbon. 

_What in the hell have I done to myself?_

He put his head in his hands and let a few tears slip down his cheeks. 

**\----------**

Tim was scrubbing the wall when his cell rang. He set down the cleaning sponge and fished it out of his pocket. The caller ID showed a smiling picture of Tony. 

"McGee." 

_"How's he doing?"_

"He threw a full cup of coffee at me, and locked himself in the basement." 

_"That well, huh?"_

"I don't understand, Tony. Why does he have to run from everything and everyone?" 

_"That's how he copes with everything. That and a fifth of whiskey... or three..."_

"I just wish he'd let me help him. I've already locked up the bourbon. I'm sure he's down there trying to figure out what he's going to do without it." 

_"I've been through this with my Father. It can take some time for a person with an alcohol problem to admit it and want to get help."_

"I can't stay at his house forever, Tony." 

_"Obviously, but you're there now. Just be there for him."_

"Thanks. I feel a lot better now." 

_"Anytime, Probie. Call me if you need anything."_

"Will do." 

Tim hung up and picked up the sponge to continue cleaning the coffee mess. 

**\--------------**

The basement door opened at eight o'clock that evening. Gibbs slowly made his way into the kitchen. Tim was sitting at the table, his laptop out. A glance at the wall told him that Tim had cleaned up the mess from his earlier tirade. 

_Damn it, I'm an ass._

He made his way to the table and sat down. Tim continued to work. 

"I'm an ass," he said finally. 

"Yep," Tim said, without looking up from his work. 

"I need to say something. Could you close that computer for a minute, McGee?" 

Tim sighed and closed his computer. 

"Crap, I had a speech planned, and now I can't--" 

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." 

"The first thing I do when I go downstairs is pour myself a fifth. I went to do that today, and the bottle was gone. At first I was angry, and then, I realized what an idiot I've been. I'm not sure when it started, but I've become dependent on that bottle being there when I get home." 

"You've never gone _this_ overboard with your drinking, Boss. You usually keep it under control. Is something bothering you?" 

Gibbs nodded. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Our last case... I let it get to me. I kept telling myself not to take it personally, but..." 

"You mean the car accident... the mother and daughter--oh... oh God, Gibbs I'm sorry." 

"I tried to push it all down, but that Marine reminded me so much of myself, that it all just came back ten fold." 

"I can't imagine what you went through back then, but I do know that you have a lot of people who care about you. We don't want to see you lose everything you've worked so hard for." 

"I don't know how to stop," Gibbs admitted with defeat in his eyes. 

Tim reached into his laptop bag and took out the AA flyers that Tony had tried to show him back at the hospital. 

"Let's start with these." 

He set them on the table in front of Gibbs. 

"Alcoholics Anonymous? Come on..." 

"At least read the pamphlets. The decision to go to AA is completely up to you, but please have an open mind, Boss." 

Gibbs studied his young friend. When he first met Tim, he saw a timid, stuttering Case Agent looking to break into the field. He'd shown Tim over the years how to have confidence in himself not only as a Federal Agent, but as a person. Tim had grown to respect Gibbs completely in the past 10 years. At this moment, sitting at the table with him, Gibbs felt as if he were slowly losing that respect from Tim. 

He slowly reached out and took the pamphlets. 

Tim smiled. It was definitely a start. 

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: To respect Copyright laws, I am paraphrasing the actual questions printed in the A.A. Pamphlet. The actual pamphlet can be found on www.aa.org.

Gibbs sat down on the living room couch, and opened the first pamphlet. 

**Is A.A. For You?**

The pamphlet contained twelve questions to ask oneself to determine the answer to the question on the cover. 

_This will be a breeze._

He opened up the pamphlet and read through the introduction. 

_So if I answer YES to four or more questions, I'm an alcoholic? Hmph. Whatever._

**Question 1: Have you ever tried to stop drinking, but only lasted a couple of days?**

_NO - I can stop whenever I want. I don't need it. Next question._

**Question 2: Do you ever wish people would mind their own business when it comes to your drinking?**

He hesitated, his pen hovering over the pamphlet. He checked the YES box. 

_I just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?_

**Question 3: Have you ever switched from one type of alcohol to another, hoping that it won't get you drunk?**

_Nope. That's just dumb._

**Question 4: Do you need a drink to get you started in the morning, or to make yourself stop shaking?**

_I never drink in the morning, if I know what's good for me._

**Question 5: Are you jealous of people who can control their drinking?**

_nah, I CAN control my drinking._

**Question 6: Have you had problems connected with your drinking in the past year?**

_Shit. I knew that would come up. That's a big, fat YES._

**Question 7: Has your drinking caused problems at home?**

_I live alone, so there are no problems._

**Question 8: Have you tried to get extra drinks at a party, because they just weren't being served fast enough?**

_No, that doesn't even make sense!_

**Question 9: Do you tell yourself that you can stop drinking anytime, but get drunk when you don't mean to?**

Gibbs hesitated again. 

_Crap._

He checked YES. 

**Question 10: Have you missed work/school because of your drinking?**

_YES._

**Question 11: Do you have blackouts?**

Gibbs could feel knots forming in his stomach as he neared the end of the questionnaire. 

_This isn't going to be a breeze._

**Question 12: Have you ever felt that your life would be better if you did not drink?**

Gibbs didn't check an answer for the last question. He didn't need to. He'd answered enough questions to know the answer to the question in the beginning. 

_I'm an alcoholic._

He dropped the pamphlet onto the coffee table and fell back into the couch. He'd never admitted it to himself before. What scared him was that he couldn't deny it anymore. 

_I'm an alcoholic._

He gazed toward the kitchen. Tim was still at the table. Gibbs could hear him tapping away at his computer. He knew he was going to have to go in there sooner or later and talk to him, but he wasn't sure what he was going to say. 

_You're right, I'm an alcoholic... sorry about that._

Damn, he was screwed. 

He thought back to the last question. Would his life really be better if he stopped drinking? What purpose did it really serve? To help him relax after a tough case? He could use decaf coffee for that. To keep him occupied while he built his boat? He could turn on the radio if he needed a distraction. 

Gibbs looked down at the open pamphlet on the table. 

_I'm an alcoholic._

Decision made, he got up and went into the kitchen. Tim was engrossed in responding to his e-mail. 

"McGee." 

Tim stopped what he was doing and turned in his chair. 

"I made a decision." 

Tim sat silently. 

"I want to quit drinking." 

Tim didn't say a word. He got up from his seat, approached Gibbs and pulled him into a brief, one-armed hug. 

"Thank you." 

"You shouldn't be thanking me," Gibbs said guiltily. "If I weren't stupid enough to - well, you know what happened - you wouldn't have that thing on your arm." 

"I've already forgiven you for the accident, Boss. It's forgotten." 

"I've really screwed things up, Tim. I'm not sure I know how to fix this." 

"You won't be alone. I'll be right here with you to help you. Ducky and Tony, too. We're your friends, Gibbs." 

"So what happens now?" 

Tim turned back to his computer. 

"I took the liberty of researching AA meetings in your area while you were downstairs this afternoon." He pulled up a list from the AA website. "There's one tomorrow night. They meet every Thursday, at St. Anthony's church, in the Rectory." 

"I thought the priest's home was the rectory," Gibbs said skeptically. 

"St. Anthony's built a new parsonage. The old one was converted into space for Sunday school classes, and other things." 

"Oh." 

"You'll be fine, Boss. I'll go with you, if you want." 

"You'd go to an AA meeting?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

"I don't deserve a friend like you," Gibbs said, lowering his eyes. 

"Having a problem doesn't make you a bad person," Tim said. "I would have liked you just the same, had all of this not happened." 

"Are you saying I should keep drinking?" 

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." 

Gibbs nodded. 

"Have you eaten?" he said suddenly, changing the subject. 

"Actually no, I'm starved," Tim admitted. 

"I've got a couple of steaks thawed out in the fridge. You game?" 

"Absolutely." 

Gibbs smiled and crossed the room to the refrigerator. He opened the fridge and reached in for the steaks. Several beers sat on the shelf next to it. He remembered all the times when he and Tony would have steaks and beer after a hard case brought Tony to his house at night. 

He took out the steaks, and left the beers behind. 

\---------- 

Shortly after dinner, Tim took his pain meds and went to bed. Gibbs took out the trash and locked up when he came back inside. His eyes wandered to the fridge, and he thought of the six-pack of beer sitting inside it. He'd only kept the beer for Tony, really. 

He started a pot of coffee for himself, and sat down at the kitchen table. He occupied himself with reading the newspaper while he waited for his coffee. He was feeling shaky. He wasn't sure if it was the lack of drinking the amount of coffee his body was used to, or from not having had a real drink in a few days. 

_Don't alcoholics get the shakes?_

He remembered his state the morning of the accident. His hands were shaking so badly that morning, he thought he may have been having a seizure. 

_Damn it._

His ringing cell phone snapped him out of his thoughts, and he fished it from his pants pocket and opened it. 

"Gibbs." 

_"How are you feeling?"_

"I'm fine, Leon." 

_"I want to meet with you tomorrow, in my office, 0900 hours."_

"I'll be there." 

_"Don't be late."_

"I won't. Don't worry." 

Gibbs hung up and went to get a cup of coffee. He sat down with his coffee and newspaper, and enjoyed the quiet solace.   
\------------   
_The next morning..._

Gibbs fidgeted in the elevator as it took him up to Vance's office. He'd never been this nervous about meeting with his Boss. He hoped it was a quick meeting. He wasn't sure he was ready to be back at NCIS for very long. He wanted some time alone before the AA meeting. 

The elevator dinged, and he stepped off, and went right into Vance's office. As usual, his secretary did not move to stop him. Vance was waiting for him when he went inside. 

"Have a seat, Gibbs." 

Gibbs sat nervously. 

"You've been on suspension for almost a week, Agent Gibbs, pending the results of the investigation into the accident with the MCRT van." Vance slid a folder across his desk. "Here are the results." 

Gibbs took the folder and read quickly. 

"I told you the brakes went out, Leon." 

"You're off the hook for the accident. However, the fact that you came to work half drunk is worrisome. I never thought I'd have to have this conversation with you, Gibbs." 

"If you're going to fire me, Leon, do it now so I can go." 

"I'm not firing you. We'd never be able to replace you," he said with a smirk. 

"But--" 

Leon sat back in his chair. 

"HR wanted me to demote you. I want you to know that. I have a different idea in mind, and HR has agreed." 

"Leon..." 

"You can come back to work on Monday, but you're not going to come back as Team Lead." 

"So you're demoting me." 

"Not officially. DiNozzo will be taking over Team Lead for your team, and you will be Senior Field Agent." He saw Gibbs start to tense. "This isn't permanent, Jethro. I'm doing this as an alternative to probation. It's only going to be for a couple of months." 

Gibbs knew he was in no place to argue. He didn't like the idea of being SFA to DiNozzo, but he didn’t have much of a choice. 

"All right, Leon." 

"Good." Vance sat back in his chair. "I want to talk to you about your drinking, Jethro." 

Gibbs remained silent. 

"What would possess you to nearly drink yourself to death?" 

"I've been thinking about that all week, Leon. I still can't answer that question." 

"You can't come to work again like you did on Monday." 

"McGee is helping me quit drinking." 

Vance didn't say anything at first. He didn't expect Gibbs to tell him he was quitting drinking. 

"That's great to hear. Don't forget, my door is open if you need to talk." 

"I know, Leon." 

Vance looked at his watch. 

"I've got a meeting in ten minutes in MTAC. I'll see you Monday morning." 

Gibbs shook hands with Vance, and left the office. He had an A.A. Meeting to get ready for. 

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The format I use for the AA meeting can be found here: http://aasandiego.org/suggestedopenmeetingformat.pdf. I have copied the opening statement verbatim, but the rest is paraphrased or skipped over, to keep the chapter at an acceptable length.

Gibbs pulled the car into a parking spot at St. Anthony's church and killed the engine. 

"Are you ready?" Tim asked. 

"Not really, but I can't sit in the parking lot all night." 

"Well come on," Tim said as he opened his car door and got out. 

Gibbs took a deep breath, and got out of the car. He and Tim walked into the former rectory together. 

The rectory was still very much a home. They followed the signs into the former living room, which was not tiny, but small enough to relax and converse as a group. It looked like a comfortable place to have a meeting. There were two couches situated in the room, and a couple of easy chairs. There were extra folding chairs leaning against the wall, in case there was a need for extra seating. Along the wall next to the door was a long table, set up with cookies and coffee. 

"If everyone will have a seat, we'll get started," a man at the front of the room said loudly. 

Tim and Gibbs found an empty couch and sat down. A man stood up from the small table in front of the room. 

"Welcome to the St. Anthony's chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous. This is an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. We are glad you are all here – especially newcomers. In keeping with our singleness of purpose and our Third Tradition which states that “The only requirement for A.A. membership is a desire to stop drinking,” we ask that all who participate confine their discussion to their problems with alcohol." 

Gibbs sat back as the group recited the "A.A. Preamble." After that, the group leader took out what he called the "Big Book" and read from it for a few minutes. 

After five minutes of reading, the leader snapped the book shut, jarring Gibbs from the doze he'd fallen into. 

"At this time I would like to ask if there are any newcomers to our group, who have been with us for less than 30 days." 

Tim nudged Gibbs, who shook his head. There was no way he was going to talk at this meeting. Unfortunately, the group leader noticed the silent exchange, and moved to the center of the room. 

"I see a new face in the back," he said, indicating Gibbs. "Would you like to introduce yourself? First name only, please." 

Everyone was staring at him now, and he knew if he didn't introduce himself, they'd all think he was a jerk. 

"My name is Jethro." 

"Welcome, Jethro. My name is James, and I'm the Secretary of our small chapter. We're glad to have you with us this evening." he turned to Tim. "You're a new face as well!" 

"I'm Tim... I'm here to support Jethro," he explained. 

"That's a great thing. Everyone could use support, and that's what A.A. is here for, as well as friends. I hope you'll both stick around after the meeting for refreshments." 

"We'd be happy to," Tim answered for both of them. 

"Are there any other newcomers?" James asked. A man across the room raised his hand. 

"I'm Harold, and I've been coming to A.A. for two weeks." 

"It's very nice to see you again, Harold. I look forward to chatting with you after group." 

James retreated to his spot in the middle of the room. 

"All right, let's get down to discussion, shall we?" James sat down in the easy chair behind him, and set his notebook on his lap. "Today's group discussion topic is Acceptance." 

Gibbs felt his stomach turn. He hoped he didn't have to talk. He saw Harold raise his hand. 

"I'd like to tell my story, if that's okay, James." 

"Absolutely, Harold." 

"For twenty-five years, I didn't think I had a problem. I enjoyed having a few beers with my buddies at the pub, and I didn't care what my wife had to say about it. I'd stagger in at two in the morning, drunk out of my head, and we'd argue about it before I ended up on the couch. She tried to tell me for years that I had a drinking problem, and I always told her to stick it. One night, when our son was 17, I came home at two in the morning, like always. This time, my son was the one who greeted me at the door. He looked like he'd been crying. While I was down at the bar, laughing and drinking, my wife had a heart attack, and died in her sleep." 

Gibbs' heart sank for Harold as he told the group that his son stopped speaking to him, and that he tried for years to stop drinking. His second wife urged him to come to A.A., and here he was. When Harold was finished, another person spoke up. It was a woman in her late twenties. 

"I started drinking in college," she said. "It was fun... beer pong in the dorm, going out on Fridays to the bars, all that fun college stuff. But I couldn't stop after college. I lived with my parents until I was twenty-five. They kicked me out, and I realized that I had nowhere to turn to. I moved in with my boyfriend, and he's been helping me get sober." 

"It can take a long time to accept that there's a problem, or it can take a traumatic event in our lives to knock some sense into us, but Acceptance is the key to starting down the road to sobriety," James said. "Five years ago, I hit another car head on, and killed two people. I made a promise to myself to get sober, and I haven't had a drink since that night." 

The room applauded his accomplishment, and Gibbs found himself clapping with them. This meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be. 

They had a half hour of group discussion, and then James ended the meeting with some A.A. announcements, and invited anyone who wished to join in as they recited the Serenity Prayer. 

"Thank you all for coming, and we'll see you next week. Feel free to join us for refreshments before you leave." 

Everyone started chatting among themselves. While Tim and James chatted, Gibbs got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. Harold joined him at the table. 

"Hi Jethro," he said, extending a hand. Gibbs shook it. 

"Nice to meet you, Harold." 

"You'll like this group. Everyone is very nice, and no one is here to judge." 

"I wasn't sure I'd like it," Gibbs admitted, sipping his coffee. "It's actually not that bad." 

"To be honest, I didn't want to come, either. My wife forced me to go. She even came with me the first time, like your friend did for you," he indicated Tim, who was engrossed in conversation with James. 

"There was a time when I didn't think he'd talk to me again," Gibbs said, quickly taking a sip of his coffee to hide his sadness. 

"You're the reason his arm is in that sling." 

Gibbs nodded. 

"I'm glad he didn't stop talking to you." 

"Me too." 

Just then, Tim and James finished their conversation, and both men joined Gibbs. Harold bade them goodbye and took his coffee to go. 

"What did you think of your first meeting, Jethro?" James asked. 

"Not what I expected," he admitted honestly. 

"I hope you can join us next week. And feel free to bring Tim again. We welcome visitors, especially ones who are here for moral support." 

"Yeah, that sounds good. See you next week." 

Gibbs and James shook hands, and James moved off to another group of people. 

"Ready to go?" 

"Yeah, let's get out of here. I'm going to need some time to prepare for Monday morning." 

"What's Monday?" Tim asked as they left the house and walked to the car. 

"I’m coming back to work... but DiNozzo is Team Lead. Vance's order." 

"He made _Tony the Lead?_ Does he realize what is going to happen? Wait, what about you?" 

"I get to be the Senior." 

"Oh man... Tony's going to have a field day with this." 

Gibbs opened the car door and got in. 

"He'll stow his ego if he knows what's good for him." 

Tim laughed as Gibbs started the car. Monday was certainly going to be interesting. 

**TBC...**


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Gibbs jogged down his basement steps. A woodworking project awaited him there. He'd been working on more toys for the Children's Hospital. He made a beeline for his sandpaper and started working on the train set he'd abandoned two nights earlier when they caught a case. Now that it was over, he had some time to work on it. 

As he started to sand, he heard footsteps on the kitchen floor above him. Moments later, Fornell came down the stairs, holding a paper bag. 

"Thought I'd drop by for a nightcap," He said, setting down the paper bag on Gibbs' work bench. From it he pulled a fifth of whiskey. He looked around the workbench, and furrowed his brow. "Where's the mason jars?" 

"Gone," Gibbs said, not looking up from his project. 

"What am I supposed to drink out of?" he asked. 

"A glass from your house, Tobias." 

"What the hell is wrong with you lately?" Fornell asked, irritated. "I come over with your favorite whiskey, and you don't even have a mason jar to drink it in!" 

Gibbs set down his sanding tools and turned to his friend. 

"I want to show you something." 

Gibbs reached into his shirt and pulled out the neckace he'd been wearing. He held it up for Fornell to see. 

"An AA chip?" 

"Six months sober, Tobias." 

Fornell sank onto a stool. 

"Wow... I--wow." 

"Surprised a lot of folks. My father nearly had a heart attack." 

"Good for you, Jethro," Fornell said, extending a hand. Gibbs shook it. 

"Thanks." 

"I'm sorry. I should have never--"

"It's okay, Tobias. You didn't know."

"Well, I'd better take my whiskey and go. I'll call you." 

"Sounds good." 

Tobias picked up his bottle and left Gibbs alone in the basement. Gibbs looked down at the chip hanging from his neck. He never thought he'd make it six months, and here he was. Things at NCIS were going well, and everyone was back to their positions within two months. He'd never been so glad to bring DiNozzo down from his high horse. 

He took a last look at the chip, tucked it back into his shirt and went back to his project. 

**END**


End file.
